The Infected 1: Proxy (37 page)

Shrugging to himself Brian avoided the topic, mainly because he knew that nothing he did could positively effect it in any way. Looking at Becky he asked how long she thought this whole thing, her ghosting his brain, would last. She didn't know, but opined that she felt stronger now, not weaker.

"I could be permanent. So let's be friends..." Holding up a hand she laughed. "Don't take that the wrong way, I'd totally do you if I could, and will if I can figure out how. But right now we should try and get along, because I can't leave, I don't think. As to the sex thing... you're a catch. We'll get you someone. Maybe two or three if that's what you're into. Somewhere in here I have all this secret girl info we can use for that..."

The rain died down and then stopped, so he unburied the wood in the fire hoping an ember had survived, and blew furiously trying to revive the one tiny bit that did. It took almost an hour, but he had a fire going by noon. He let it burn for a while to dry the wood out completely then banked it for safety and headed out to get food for the day. As he fished, doing well with his little scoop of branches, having to fix it only once when he pulled a really big one out - almost three times the size of the others - Becky showed up seeming harried.

"Right! So um, incoming? One person, Infected, but lots of men with guns around, so be careful. There might be something more though, I can't get a good read, so stay ready. I don't think they're police, but not attackers either, bodyguards maybe? About a minute out, not a lot of warning on this one. I think you'll want to lead with a kick here... Right leg stomp about four inches above your waist."

The timing wasn't perfect, and he had to kick twice to knock the attacker, an Infected woman, back. He got why he didn't want to close with her instantly without having to think about it. Her body was covered in raspy-looking quills, about three inches long, but they looked like metal spikes, not something an animal would have. She might have been thirty, it was hard to tell, the potential death thing being a little distracting. Luckily her stomach was almost bare, so he didn't stab his own foot. Almost silver gray hair on her head, which was nearly pretty, glinting a little in the sunlight.

He kicked her back again twice more as she rushed him - or more likely the person she wanted to attack - before the guards, men in suits with ear pieces, shot her. The bullets bounced at first, but one of them finally hit her in the head, knocking her to the ground. It didn't make her bleed. She didn't wear clothes, really, nothing would have stayed on her if she tried, she actually had decent breasts under the quills. The metal rasped as she moved in a way that likely made modesty impossible. The guards kept shooting until she didn't move, then turned their weapons on him.

He almost wanted to sigh. This crap again? They weren't even cops.

"Down, get down now you Infected filth!" one of them screamed at him, hands tightening on the trigger. Brian moved, rolling suddenly to throw the man's aim off and hitting him with kicks to the knees. Another one of the guards, older looking and seeming more mentally collected started yelling too.

"Hold your fire! IPB, he's a federal agent, hold your fire!"

Brian felt a shock of surprise that someone had recognized him like that. His black fatigues didn't have any markings on them at all.

The tingling didn't come yet, so he started jogging away, trying to get distance from the threat, thinking it was likely to be the bodyguards this time. Some of them might just be insane. Or stupid enough to kill whoever they were protecting trying to shoot him. Instead a second Infected person, a man this time, rushed him faster than he'd seen anyone move before outside of the gym on fourteen and tried to slash him with a knife. The response from the suited bodyguards was more efficient this time and took the man down with only two shots. Then Brian felt the signal, the tingling. He didn't relax until he was back at the stream, panting slightly from the exertion.

Thankfully his fish were still there.

Two moves to help people and twice he was insulted for having a disease. That seemed a bad trend to him, but maybe he'd just caught a pocket of bigotry? A statistical run? Brian wondered how bad things were getting in the real world if saving a person's life didn't count as much as being Infected did.

He didn't know what the plan was for the next day, but found Conroy sitting in front of his fire heating something that smelled pretty good in a real, if small, metal pot when he got back to the camp. Looking up, the older man smiled when he saw the fish, easily enough for two. They didn't talk for a while, Conroy just handed him a small tin cup and a spoon and they ate beef stew while waiting for the fish to cook.

"Most people don't keep themselves fed half as well as you did, you know. Basic, but not bad. You should try more advanced hunting and trapping too, especially trapping, if you ever get the chance. It has a higher success to energy expended ratio. I saw that you reinforced your shelter before the rain got in and kept your fire the whole time, even in the wet. Not bad. Now, this is only one environment, and not the harshest in the world by far, but if you can get the basics here, you can survive most places that you can without equipment. Harsh desert, tundra, ice fields, you don't last there without something more, proper clothes, water, that kind of thing. There are tricks to it, but you can get those later. The important thing is learning that you can do it."

Then after they ate, as late in the day as it was, a few hours before dark, they walked out, reaching a single vehicle that sat at the trail head, next to a small forest station marker, just as darkness fell. Conroy drove the tiny red car, a little economy type that looked old, but ran quietly, like the repair was good, ending at the airport, where the plane waited, confusing Brian a little. He'd thought they would be out for four days.

Lancaster raised an eyebrow and told him it had been four days, that they were a little late getting to him actually.

"Senator Hooper was attacked at a rally, which you already know about, but that means the IPB had to go on alert, slowing down my getting here. Sorry about the delay." He walked toward the plane, Brian and Conroy following along.

The older man rubbed at his beard. "How would he know? He's been out here the whole time. Not even a radio."

Lancaster grinned, a dark thing that didn't look very happy at all.

"Brian switched - took the senator's place - when he was attacked and saved him, then nearly got shot by his private security. Luckily one of them was ex-secret service and knew enough not to assassinate the guy that came to save their client's ass. Brian had to take one of them down too. Put the moron in the hospital with two broken legs."

Conroy blanched a bit when he realized that Brian had fought not only once, but twice, including to the death, while surviving on his own in the woods.

"Cutthroat... Damn it man! What the fuck?" The older guy looked angry and perplexed, causing the agent to nod in agreement.

"I know. But if he hadn't saved Hooper things would be a lot worse right now. As it is people are going on TV and radio, calling for all Infected to be put to death. No one important yet, but enough voices screaming loud enough, long enough and the noise might drown out common sense." The large man, still clad in a black suit with muscles rippling underneath, kept them all walking as they spoke.

Turning as they stopped, Conroy shook Brian's hand at the step of the plane and told him that he'd done about as well as anyone ever had. Not just the new guys either, he told Lancaster, even the professionals.

"No bull, Cutthroat, I handed the kid the first bug and he just ate it. Didn't squirm and make a face or have to starve for a week first. Just did it. No bitching or grumbling. You and Cast Iron both squirmed like school girls the first time and Felix puked. Everything was like that. Put his fire out, took his shelter apart, made strange noises off in the woods and he just dealt with it. Instantly, not even bothering to get frustrated. Even lost me in the woods for a day, which is good, considering I taught him how to do it. If you can't keep this kid alive... don't send me any more Daryl. I mean it." He turned and walked away, disappearing into the dark silently.

Lancaster grinned and told him that he needed to take all that to heart, because Conroy was the top survival expert in the country and only took people out when asked by old students and close friends.

"He really will cut me off if I don't keep you alive too... so, give me a hand there?"

Brian felt a little shocked himself. Somewhere in there he'd not only lost a day, but couldn't recall any strange noises at all. It worried him a little, but he let it go. He was probably just insane after all. Wasn't hearing things a sign of losing it too? He just didn't know.

The flight back took longer than the flight there did, because they had to fly halfway back to the base and land, submitting to an inspection. Supposedly this had to do with the attack on Hooper, but Lancaster snorted at the idea. He told Brian that it was about looking busy to set people's minds at ease, not do anything real. On the good side they didn't act as if they cared that Brian was Infected, which they knew, since several of the TSA agents recognized him from the news. Apparently cameras had caught the whole Hooper incident. When that was done they flew back to the base directly, Lancaster covering what he could of the blow-back from the attack.

"The IPB looks pretty good right now, but Hooper's people are trying to keep us and you, out of the press about it. Hard to do, being as how you also saved his daughter and both things are playing on the news right now back to back, but they're working on it. We'll probably have to trot you out soon and remind everyone who you are. Don't worry, I won't let your training suffer because of it, Marcia already told everyone you were in for something special and has been asking for volunteers to help you train. Interesting crew lined up I hear..."

As if to prove a point about the training, Marcia met them at the plane and gave him a big hug when he got on the ground. He felt self-conscious about the way he smelled, but then remembered she pretty much didn't have a sense of smell. So he hugged her back closely, enjoying how her hard body felt against him. Even her breasts felt firmer than a normal woman's, poking into him and slowly deforming under the pressure, rather than just moving. Well, at least if he could remember what was normal that way anymore. It was nice of her to come greet them, almost like having friends or something.

The Director walked up at almost the same time, with Charlot Chambers right behind. She gave him a hug, though much briefer, and managed not to wrinkle her nose, for which he felt grateful. Director Moore just put out a hand and shook with both men, and quickly recapped most of what Lancaster had told him already.

"So we need to have a press conference ASAP. Just go out and answer what they ask again, we'll help you rehearse some answers this time, if that's all right? People need to see a friendly face standing up for the Infected and with Prime's recent trouble and what happened with Lady Glory..."

Covering his mouth with his left hand, Brian yawned, then stretched backwards. Both he and Lancaster had slept on the flight, since it had taken most of the night. The seats on the plane were nice, compared to the ground, a treat after the last week.

"Sorry... Not really all that tired, just waking up. It's what, ten in the morning now?" He looked at Marcia, who told him eight-thirty, not even looking at a watch. As always, she wore her white colored outfit, one of several he suspected. More durable than regular fabric or something, since he'd never accidentally ripped it when they practiced. She'd almost ripped the sweats off of him more than once, and destroyed t-shirts regularly. He couldn't cast stones on her fashion choices, all he had was an array of exercise clothes, all identical, and some black fatigues, like what he wore right now. Those, he suspected, had come directly from her. It seemed her style really.

"Right, so I need a shower and something to help me wake up... Then I need to get with some people about things if they'll see me. When is this press conference thing supposed to happen?" He dreaded the idea of going up on stage again, but fear wouldn't stop him, even if he did have problems each time. He'd be going armed, in case the police jumped him again. It had kind of worked for them once, so no doubt some Einstein would want to try it.

"It may be paranoid, but..." He shrugged and gave them all a small smile, trying to look sane. Brian really doubted he made it. No one swore at him at least.

Charlot took over then, talking while they all walked into the complex. She could have things set up for mid-afternoon. The reporters would be there anyway, for the briefing, and would be pleased to see someone other than the Director.

"They always like it when you're up, Brian. Something interesting always happens." When Charlot said it, the whole idea sounded fun and exciting, not like something that would require him to be locked up for weeks at a time or nearly dying. Different perspectives he guessed, looking at her sidelong. The angry seeming woman actually grinned at him.

"Bitch." He muttered, but his voice held enough laughter that she actually took his hand and giggled.

"I know. But why change what works?"

He agreed to show up, and answer questions and even get there a little early and practice some politically correct answers for some of them. It made everyone happy except Marcia, who took him by the arm and walked him to the elevator, glaring at everyone else. She waved them away from the elevator door and told them to go see to things, sounding a little bit put off by the idea, pushed the buttons for floor nine, and made the door close with only her and Brian inside.